Snow and Rain
by firedrake1207
Summary: A little story about redemption, love and faith.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

She gazed out of the window, the snow leisurely falling against the window sill. It had snowed all week, and there was no sign of it stopping. The snow made everything mellow and sweet. Outside, she could hear no noise- it was like the snow had encompassed the world in its blanket. Everything outside seemed to have stopped, as if even the trees were standing just for the sight of snow.

Snow. It had always made her feel a little calm inside. The white cover of fluffy white snow made her think of some age old comfort- a comfort that seemed too ancient to be hers. Snow reminded her of good times, of times where she felt her very soul to be content. It was one of those deep hearted feelings that she couldn't describe. Her heart always seemed to be at peace when heavy snowfall struck the city. It was like a sudden end to a strange quivering she had in her heart. She saw companionship in the snow. A brittle companionship, but a strong one for the while it lasted. With the snow, her heart, mind, body and soul were completely and convivially content. She did not know where that feeling came from. She only knew that it was all inside of her. And it made her happy. So she accepted it, since she always seemed to enjoy the snow more that way.

It was ironic. She loved the snow falling. Its little snow balls falling gently on an unknowing world. They snowflakes came quietly, and just as they came, they left the world peacefully. But she had never really been a fan of rain. Rain, with its patter, and the fact that it drenched her so quickly always made her have a deep unsettling feeling. She would sit in the porch, sipping ice tea and watching the children play in the summer rains, trying to avoid the droplets that fell overwhelmingly to the ground.

Rain had a frightening feeling to it. The pace at which rain fell- especially when it poured heavily made her feel as if the world was crumbling at her. It was an odd feeling- an unrealistic one too. But she could never drive it away. Heavy rain brought to her a feeling of despair. A feeling that the skies were about to explode and shoot into a thousand millions shards. A feeling that unnerved her to the core. So she stayed out of the rain. As much as she could.

Those were only some of the emotions she felt that she could not explain. That she never tried to really. That she embraced openly because to her, it was who she was and there was no running from who she was.

A week later, she found herself sitting in a brightly lit classroom. School had just started for the second semester. And she was already bored. With the initial registration and enrolment done, she sat waiting for the teacher to bring order into a class full of 13 year olds. She sat next to the windows- her usual spot. She spotted Arianna, a blonde and blue eyed girl. Arianna was new this year, but was immensely popular, since her parents were super rich and all. Right next to her was Barbara, a dark skinned and dark haired girl- Arianna and her were best friends. Arianna and Barbara were the girls with the highest fashion sense. Literally. And they always quoted the wrong movies, shows and books. And they got decent grades. So basically, they were almost close to perfect.

And she loved them to death.

"Helene! Where were you all Christmas? You missed the skating rink! Did you know that James confessed his undying love to Tia there? Oh it was the sweetest!" Arianna squealed, waving her hands about her head.

Barbara nodded her head continuously.

"Guys. You know my mother. She gets a bit cuckoo sometimes. And she doesn't believe in Christmas so going anywhere in Christmas time is impossible," Helene replied, rolling her eyes.

"Well, whatever your mom says. You've just gotta stay over at my place. We'll have the perfect sleepover. And oh! Did you hear the party James was having over at the West side? We have to go there. And because we, "Barbara motioned to the three of them, "set James and Tia together in the first place, they're going to officially announce it. I mean, could this be any more amazing?"

Before any of them could answer, a tall bespectacled man walked into the room. Setting his bag on his chair, he called for everyone to be seated. Arianna winked at Helene, who smiling back, could not wait for this class to end to get all the gossip.

But most of all, she could not wait until the elective period after lunch. Music theory and instrument.

Music lessons were, he believed, the most feminine thing he could think of in all the classes he took in the history of Asgard. Well, not really. But it definitely was something he had little interest in. He was only eager for history class that took place in the palace's vast library, filled with a multitude of books that even he couldn't count.

By the time he would be 18, he would have read the entire collection in the palace that was open for the general public. There was still a restricted section- a sea of even older manuscripts, paintings and recordings that were twice as big as the section open for everyone. It was a majestic library. A library where a human could live his entire life and still not be able to conquer.

As his mind lingered on, thinking of the next epic fable to read, he felt a slight pinch on his hand. He retracted his hand, his reverie broken by a sandy haired and tall boy.

"Where were you lost again, brother? You don't seem to be paying any attention to the techniques of music. You know this is the third music teacher in a month," he said cautiously.

"You know the little interest I have in music, Thor. Why do I even need to learn this?" he said, standing up from his seat.

"Because, Loki, it is Asgardian culture. And we need to learn all this to be good kings and rulers," Thor said, matter-of-factly.

The black haired boy stared at Thor for a second. Then he lifted his satchel and hung it on his shoulder.

"Then I think only you need to be learning this."

He left the room through the beautifully arched door, leaving a gaping Thor and a puzzled music teacher.


	2. Chapter 2

Without a word. Without a word, Helene left the room. She was infuriated. Infuriated at her mother. How could she say that? How could she threaten every piece of comfort and familiarity she had? How could she so blatantly degrade everything she held dear? How could she expect her to appreciate a land so far off that, to her was only a mere fairy tale? How could she tell her to break off with every piece of her life just to honor her homeland? A homeland that she had never heard or seen off. A homeland that existed only in the books of fairy tales and enchanted stories.

A homeland that she hadn't even visited yet.

Storming out of the little living room, she climbed up the stairs to her room, slamming the door in the process. She couldn't handle her mother accusing her of being 'heathen'. What did she mean by that anyways? How was she a heathen? She sighed a breath full of frustration. In history, she had learnt, of how Christians would call pagans and polytheistic people. She didn't even celebrate Christmas! Why would she call her and all her friends heathen?

She punched her pillow. And then she buried her head in it. Tears of anger wet the white cloth. She hated the generalizations, the narrow mindedness and the drivel her mother reproached her with. She hated the fits of depression and anger her mother went through, for apparently no reason at all. And she hated herself for it. She hated the feeling of uselessness she had when that happened.

After a while, when her throat was all sore from the crying, and her eyes puffy and red, she headed downstairs for a glass of water and maybe something to eat. She stopped in her tracks when she heard a female voice in the living room. Who was that? She had never heard that voice before. She crooned her neck and tried to listen, but their conversation was barely audible. She could hear their voices, but not what they were saying. That was weird. She furrowed her eyebrows and attempted harder to eavesdrop.

In her attempt, she paid no attention to the antique wooden table with a brightly colored vase on it, filled fresh with water and a couple of orchids. As she grew forward towards the door, she stubbed her toe on one of the wooden legs. The wooden table shook, and it was all she could do to suppress her yell and grasp hold of the vase from falling.

The talking stopped suddenly. She held her breath. She was in trouble. She heard some shuffling and someone moving towards the door. Before she could make her getaway to the stairs, the person was standing in the doorway, with her mother close behind.

"So this is you? Bluthilde, daughter of Freyja," the stranger remarked. Her voice was gentle and soft as velvet. It was a voice that could weaken your heart and encourage you to tell her your deepest secrets. She had merely stated something, but her voice was pleasant to the ears. And it set an amiable presence in the tension that still hung thickly in the air.

She frowned. What did she call her? And her mother?

"Umm, it's Helene. And daughter of Francine," she remarked back, a hidden tone of insolence in her voice.

"Ah! Someone is a little hostile here, aren't they?" the woman replied, chuckling.

The chuckles. They were impossible to get angry at. Helene felt the anger in her heart melt almost instantly. It was a sweet short sound- a lovable one. Helene finally paid attention to the stranger. And what beheld her eyes was amazing.

She knew very few could match her mother's beauty- the porcelain skin, the big almond-shaped green eyes, the perfect swirls and curls of auburn hair, settling on her temples. The high cheekbones and thin red lips and a perfect proportionate face. Sometimes, she'd wonder whether she could be her real daughter- except for the eyes and the skin, she had inherited nothing else from her mother. But this stranger came pretty close. But she had something else to her. An air of elegance and grace and the way she always held her chin up and her head high impressed Helene. Despite of the general annoyance that invaded her heart a few minutes, now it was slowly ebbing away. And instead, an aura of inspiration and adore replaced the annoyance. And curiosity.

She had the elegance of a queen. The humbleness of a poor widow. The wisdom of the elderly. And the love of a romantic.

"Oh sorry dear. I think your mother did not explain this to you. She has a way of choosing the wrong words sometimes," she said, smiling. She headed back to one of the leather sofas and signaled for Helene to sit.

She followed, with a look of curiosity on her face. She made no effort to hide the inquisitiveness she felt inside.

"You were curious about your homeland yes?"

She nodded, shyly.

"Well, I am from there too. And I can show it to you, if you want to."

"Show it? Why don't you tell me where it is? I know my geography. Granted I'm not very good at it, but I know where each country is," Helene retorted. This conversation was puzzling her even more.

The stranger shifted in her seat. She frowned for a second and then smiled.

"You are one curious one. Just like my own son. Alright. You, your mother and I, we're all Norse. Do you know what it means?" she asked.

Helene started to think. She had heard of that word before. She knew what it meant. She just couldn't fetch what it meant.

She smiled. "That refers to the people-"

"Who live up north! In Europe!" Helene exclaimed, interrupting her.

"Yes. You do know your geography. Remember, you're destined to visit it someday," she said and smiled at Helene.

"I have to leave now. But I hope to see you soon," she said, acknowledging her mother. They hugged and she showed herself to the door. Before long, the room was filled with the same tension as before. The stranger had made an aura of comfort that had eliminated the ill feeling in the atmosphere, but the moment she left, it fell down into their living room like a waterfall. It was like both of them were suddenly aware of it.

"Who was she?"

"A friend."

"You don't have any friends."

"That's what you think."

Helene rolled her eyes and stepped towards the kitchen. She had almost forgotten about the itch in her throat. The two names that she had called them were also itching her at the back of her head.

"Helene."

"What?"

"I am sorry."

"It's okay mother. You don't have to apologize."

"You can go tonight. To the party and that sleepover at your friend's."

She stood up abruptly from her bent position in front of the fridge.

"Really?"

"Yes," she smiled. Her smiles were rare, but beautiful nonetheless. And with that smile, Helene decided she could put the question of the two names for another time.

Loki leaned back on the wooden chair. Scratching his head, he returned to the book. This was harder than any he had learned yet. He sighed, looked up to clear his vision and looked at the characters in the book. No. This was close to impossible.

Next to him, sat around ten books stacked neatly. He had already researched everything he needed from those already. They were heavy hard back volumes, each with ancient gold lining and gold inscriptions on the side. To any human, they would seem like antiquities- the books in the state halls or the ones that you couldn't borrow at the library.

Now he was at the end of his assignment, but he was stuck. He sighed.

"I give up."

"Try harder. I know you'll get it," a woman with auburn hair replied.

"But mother. I have been studying this for hours. And I am at the same place in the book where I was two hours ago."

"Then take a break. Get some fresh air. And then come back and try again."

"Alright mother. Can you make sure Thor doesn't steal my assignment? He has a habit of doing that, if you haven't already noticed," he said, getting up.

Frigga shook her head.

"You boys. I will make sure he does his own work, but dearie, you shouldn't accuse your brother like that. He needs a little growing up to do. He isn't the book type like you are. Alright?"

He hesitated. "Alright. But may I ask you something?"

"Yes anything, my son." Her blue eyes showed all the kindness and love in the world. Her gentle smile removed any hesitation in his bright green eyes.

"Do you and father like book types?"

Frigga was slightly taken aback by his question. Where had that come from? She treated both of them equally, loved and cared for them equally. She had never made any difference in their treatment. Of course, sometimes Odin, her husband, carried out activities or duties with Thor in mind, rather than Loki and no matter how many times she had told him to consider his actions before he acted on them, it was an impulse that came to him naturally. Despite of that, she had never stopped trying. Despite of that, she never refused to believe the one single thing that set the two brothers apart. And she was determined to not let that get in between the two of them. And between Odin and her.

"Yes sweetheart. We love book types. And I honestly, like them better," she replied, her benevolent face showed the honesty with which she answered the question. She lovingly stroked his head before he walked out of the heavy wooden library doors, a relieved and satisfied smile illuminating his face.


End file.
